Gift Box
by Project Thanks
Summary: For Sophie and Sam at Hogwarts: a one-shot collection with the theme of love and appreciation.
1. Crush

**To: Sam**

* * *

The Dungeons were so cold he could shiver, but embarrassment burned hot on in his face. Harry could feel his throat closing up even as the blood rushed up his neck, staining his face a violent shade of pink that would rival even the famous Weasley blush. His mouth opened but no words came out, just odd choking noises that only added to his embarrassment.

Fleur simply stood there, looking as beautiful as ever despite the angry look on her face. She had both hands on her hips, her long hair hung over one shoulder like a silken curtain, and her bright eyes sparked with annoyance. The parchment he had been carrying was scrunched in one hand, having been read and discarded.

"Vat eez the meaning of this 'arry?" she demanded, repeating the question that had closed his throat up in the first place.

"I- I- I-" he stuttered. His heart pounded, and there was an odd buzzing sound in his ears that he wasn't sure anyone else could hear. "Y-You weren't supposed to find out that way. I never meant for you to know, I- I just- I really like you."

"I don't know what passes for admiration een thees country 'arry Potter, but this," she shook the crumpled parchment at him, "this-"

Harry could feel himself getting smaller and smaller, just curling inwards in embarrassment and despair as his first real crush on an older, beautiful girl was ripped into small humiliating pieces. His tender, 14-year-old heart shrivelled, and he wished more than anything that the cold ground beneath his feet would open up and swallow him whole. Anywhere would be better than here.

"-this is very sweet."

Harry's head snapped up, and his eyes widened with shock. His cheeks still burned, but something akin to hope stirred in his stomach. Fleur looked down at him, tall as she was, and smiled lightly. It made his heart leap, and a smile tugged at his lips.

"Really?"

"Oui, you are very sweet to have written this about me. Your description of my eyes ees… particularly flattering," she said. "But we cannot be, dear 'arry."

It was obvious as his face fell, despite his attempts to hide it. The disappointment spread through him, but at least it lacked the sting of humiliation.

She took his hand and gently placed the carefully scripted love poem back in his palm. Harry watched her carefully, still unsure of what to say after the unexpected turn this encounter had taken. "I will remember you always, dear 'arry, but you are too young for me and I am too old for you."

It all seemed over,; his little heart was breaking, but he knew that it had been a pipe dream anyway. He nodded, awestruck at the softness of her skin on his hand. It was enough that he had gotten this chance, that he had found her alone, and even though he hadn't meant too, that he had confessed himself to her.

He didn't think it could get better, but before Fleur turned and stalked down the corridor and out of his love life forever, she sighed, bent at the waist and pressed a soft kiss to his still burning cheek.

Harry floated back to his dorm.

* * *

 **From: Mary**


	2. Hello Diary

**To: Sophie**

* * *

 _Hello diary, my name is Ginevra Molly Weasley, but I like to be called Ginny._

 **Hello, Ginny. I'm Tom Marvolo Riddle.**

* * *

 _Tom, Tom, Tom, guess what!_

 **What?**

 _Harry Potter actually talked to me!_

 **How… Lovely…**

* * *

 _Tom, I'm so scared!_

 **Why?**

 _What happens if I'm not sorted into Gryffindor?_

 **I'm sure you will be…**

* * *

 _The other girls in Gryffindor just ignore me, I don't understand why!_

 **Have you tried actually talking to them?**

 _Of course I have, silly! They just scoffed and turned away._

 _Tom?_

 _I'm glad I have you._

* * *

 _Tom, are you there?_

 **Ginny?**

 _Tom, I'm so confused. I don't know what happened last night but I woke up with red paint down my front and Filch's cat had been petrified. Why can't I remember where I was?_

 **Does anyone else remember seeing you?**

 _I—_

 _I asked a girl from my dorm if she remembered seeing me at the feast, but she looked at me funny. Did I tell her I would be somewhere else? Did I miss my first Halloween feast at Hogwarts?_

 **I wouldn't trouble yourself over it Ginny, you probably just fell asleep early.**

 _But—_

 _I suppose you are right, Tom…_

* * *

 _The boy that sits behind me in Charms has been petrified. Tom, I'm so scared. What if I'm next?_

 **Who has been targeted so far?**

 _Filch's cat, and Colin. He's a Muggle-born._

 **And what are you?**

 _A pureblood, but I don't see how that is relevant…_

 **Think about it. A Muggle-born, which some people consider a low-class citizen, has been targeted. You are a pureblood, a high-class citizen. You are not likely to be targeted.**

 _But—but others being attacked is not good either._

 **You are too kind for your own good.**

* * *

 _Someone, a Hufflepuff second year, has been petrified, along with the Gryffindor ghost. What was I doing at that time?_

 **You had a free period, so you were studying in the library.**

 _Why can't I remember?_

 _Tom?_

* * *

 _I'm home again now for Yule._

 **Do wizards still celebrate Yule?**

 _Of course, silly! What else would they celebrate?_

 **I thought maybe the Muggle holiday Christmas had taken over.**

 _No, although it's the only holiday that is actually celebrated at Hogwarts now. I think my father is thinking about celebrating Christmas as well._

 **Isn't he a pureblood?**

 _Yeah, but he idolises Muggles…_

...

 _Tom?_

 _Tom, I've got to go help my mother clean the house, I'll talk later._

* * *

 _Tom, I don't think this is good. I think it's me._

 _It's all me..._

* * *

 **Ginny?**

* * *

 _No, you can't do that, you can't be found by Harry! What did you tell him?_

 **I didn't tell him anything.**

 _Nothing at all?_

 **No.**

* * *

 _There's been another double attack. My brother's friend. My other brother's girlfriend. This is all my fault. I'm the reason they're hurting._

 **Ginny…**

* * *

 _I trusted you, and this was all a lie… Every single word you said was a lie. And it hurts._

 **I'm sorry….**

* * *

 **From: Butter**


	3. Waltz

**To: Sam**

* * *

Harry holds Hermione against his chest as if he were a brick wall and she were the ivy. His back is as rigid as a building when they're dancing hand in hand, swaying a bit to the music that's tinkling throughout the ballroom. Harry tenses when she moves her head and brushes her curls against his neck. He was never the ticklish type, but he barely holds back a shiver.

"You're as stiff as a rock," Hermione says, looking up at him. She's amused; he can see it in the little curve of her lip even in this dim light.

He curls his fingers, not knowing what to say, but not wanting to let go, either. "I guess I'm just not a good dancer. Remember the Yule Ball?"

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. "I'm not sure I want to."

"Fair enough." They continue to sort-of-waltz in their little corner, but Harry's feet won't listen. The waltz is going one, two, three, one, two, three, and his heart jumps the gun to four each time. He isn't in time. He wonders if she is.

Fairy lights dangle above their heads while the rest of the scene is dim, and the lively hum of the party almost blots out the nervousness that Harry can't brush away from the corner's of his mind. What makes this dance different than the others they've shared? Somehow, this one is less playful, and he is touching a stranger.

It's odd to get to know Hermione in this context, when it's not professional, or a situation between friends. But had he ever said this wasn't a situation between friends? He was just jumping to conclusions, again...

"The Ministry didn't spare much while planning this party, huh?" he says.

Hermione's staring at a space in the middle of his forehead, but her eyes come back to focus at his words. "When has the Ministry ever been good at budgeting?"

They small talk about work, but Harry isn't into it. He takes steps towards the exit, trying to steer Hermione out of the ballroom. He knows she can sense something is off, if the deepening wrinkles between her eyes say anything. They've both aged, and he has perhaps become more conscious of their social roles - a bad combination.

"Do you want to get some fresh air?" Hermione prompts. "Don't pretend that I haven't noticed that your sneaking towards the door."

Harry takes his arm from her waist and nods. "I'm not very comfortable, in all honesty."

Hermione nods back, mirroring him. "Okay."

Her posture is relaxed, her eyes understanding. Perhaps things are not so different.

"I'm glad we're on the same page."

* * *

 **From: Princi**

 **Thank you for updating the forum and doing so many organizational tasks. You help out with so much and offer to do even more! I know it's tedious and boring work with little visible reward, and you don't seem to get enough recognition for it. Your contributions to Hogwarts are amazing. Thank you!**


	4. Our Dirty Little Secret

**To: Sophie**

* * *

She felt a chill go down her spine as she stared into his eyes. They were filled with such an intense desire and love that she was rendered silent. It was wrong, of course, what they were doing. Fleur was married to his brother, after all. She had sworn to be with Bill until death unto them part, yet here she was in Charlie's arms.

No, they weren't doing anything wrong. They weren't behind the safety of bedroom walls or alone at home. They were with family and friends at Ron and Lavender's wedding. Charlie had simply asked if she wanted to dance. Bill had no problems with it… how could he? He didn't know when he worked late that Fleur brought Charlie into their bed.

Bill was blinded by his love for the both of them. He couldn't imagine that his wife and his own brother would betray him in such a way. It was their dirty, little secret.

* * *

 **From: Ana**


	5. That Is All That Matters

**To: Sam**

* * *

"Remus, where were you last night?" Lily asked, as she approached the slightly off-colour, and dishevelled prefect. "I had to cover your patrol again, and you know how much I abhor spending any more time than I have to with the 'Future Death Eaters of England'."

"Yeah, sorry about that Lils," Remus answered, scratching the back of his head. "My nan fell ill, and I was given special permission to floo home for the night."

Lily raised her eyebrows at Remus in disbelief.

"Cut the bull Remus. Were you gallivanting around with Potter?" Lily said softly. "Your gran was ill last month, and the month before that come to think of it. In fact come to think of it, you always seem to have a 'family emergency' of sorts at least once a month. What aren't you telling me?"

Lily watched as Remus pondered whether or not to answer her question. Even though she was quite certain she finally realised what his secret was, she wanted it to come from him.

It was nothing to be embarrassed about. Everyone got home-sick every once in awhile, and there was no shame in needing to go home.

"Not here," Remus eventually muttered, dragging Lily into a deserted nearby classroom.

"So, Lily, do you remember Defence Against the Dark Arts last term when we covered nocturnal creatures?" Remus asked, shuddering slightly as he spoke the word creature – he hated to refer to part of himself as such.

"Yeah," Lily replied, nodding her head. "There were vampires, and were – werewolves. Oh Remus! I'm so sorry. How? When?" she asked, tears pricking the corners of her eyes as she threw her arms around him.

"It was a long time ago. I'd rather not go into details though Lils," Remus told her.

"Of course," she replied, pulling out of the hug.

"Oh Lily, don't cry," he said, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb, lingering there a few moments longer than necessary.

Lily raised her hand and placed it over Remus', and gazed into his eyes.

"I can't help it," she choked. "You've been through so much, and you're still such a good person. How do you do it?"

"It's a monthly struggle," Remus joked, forcing a laugh.

"No, I'm being serious," Lily said quietly. "You are the bravest and most sincere person I know. You haven't let your furry little problem define you, and that is so admirable."

Lily took a small step forward, closing the gap between the two of them. Her eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips and back again, as she leant forward and, in a bold first move, pressed her lips against his.

The redhead snaked her arms around Remus' neck as he reciprocated her kiss.

All too soon, she felt two hands push her away gently.

"We can't," he said sadly. "James – my condition. It's a recipe for disaster."

"First of all Remus, James does not have any say in who I do, and do not kiss," Lily told him, "And secondly, your condition doesn't faze me. It's you I like, and that, as they say, is all that matters."

* * *

 **From: Shannon**


	6. Field of Summer Flowers

**To: Sophie**

* * *

Lavender is soft like flower petals under Ron's hands. Her skin gives a little when he touches her arms, and her hands fit snugly into his hands like they were meant to fit there. He can't agree more with the nature that made their hands that way.

She looks up at him with softened eyes and smiles, and her eyes crinkle only moderately at the corners, as if she doesn't want to smile too much. She does this when they're walking in the corridors, when they're sitting together, when he has just pressed a kiss to her lips. Someday, he'll make her smile so suddenly that she won't have time to cover her mouth self consciously.

Her palms feel so different from his own, which are roughed from the grainy wood of his broom. He always has clutched the handle too hard when he plays; it's like he thinks that it'll make him move more quickly if a Quaffle is coming at him.

But her skin is decidedly feminine, and not in the way that a woman's hands feel, bony and delicate, but in the way that an uptown girl's hands feel: smooth, a little bit moist. Ron first noticed this when he sneezed into his arm after going on a date to Hogsmeade with Lavender. His hands always smell like lemons when he takes them away. He supposes that it must be the lotion she uses. When she switched to a strawberry smell, he told her that he missed her other lotion. "Smelled better," he said.

They're sitting in the common room before the fireplace, red light washing over them. Ron feels that it compliments her face... makes her look more rosy than she already does. Their legs intertwine as they subtly struggle for couch space.

"How are you doing?" he asks, unsure of what to say.

"I'm just fine," she says, before launching into her daily recounting of what she did. "Potions was awful, as usual, but Transfiguration was so much fun. And Parvarti said something strange; I don't know what she could have meant…"

Ron drowned her out and looked towards Harry and Hermione who were sitting at a table and hurriedly discussing something before turning towards his girlfriend once more.

"Sounds like a lovely day."

Lavender was kind of different from any of the women in his life. Well, the first woman he ever knew was his mother, and she wasn't anything like Lavender. She was like a large section of tubas, always loud, always playing similar rhythms. Then there was Ginny, who was bristly as a porcupine. She shrugged him off whenever she could and was more fiery than his mother, which said something. Her youth probably gave her the energy. And Hermione, his long-time friend, was like a birch tree: thin, tall, and about as straight and stern as the plant.

But Lavender… she was soft and pretty, but felt fleeting, like a field of summer flowers.

The love he harbored for each of them was different.

Lavender hugged him closer and he melted into the embrace, feeling satisfied.

* * *

 **From: Princi**

 **You were always so kind to me, and you really help create a welcoming and active atmosphere at Hogwarts. Thank you for running the forum and being a prompt and accommodating Headmistress.**


	7. Rest and Recuperation

**To: Sam**

* * *

It was a dreary morning as Hermione walked down the street, heading towards the quaint little house she calls home. Her feet were dragging as she made her way up the steps, her hand on the railing being the only thing keeping her from toppling back down. She had not been home since she left for work the previous morning, and her reasons were not as fun as she would have liked. After a gruelling day sorting out complaints and filing for various laws to be passed, Hermione had found herself stuck in one of the most boring meetings of her life, which only ended when the plump men in ridiculous robes, her bosses, had decided that all of the work that she had been doing over the past month needed to be catalogued - tonight. This was very unfortunate for Hermione, as all of her employees had gone home for the night and, as it was Friday, would not return - no matter what she offered.

So, here she was, finally arriving at her apartment at six a.m. with her dishevelled robes hung over her arm, and her usually high spirit broken. She leaned against the door frame, suddenly having no will to open it. Her keys were clutched in her hand but she didn't have the strength to raise it. Even though Hermione could easily open the door with her wand, she always liked the idea of key chains and collecting little pendants for it. Ron thought it was so adorably muggle of her, and Harry had smiled when she showed him (then turned up the next day with seven choices of key rings to celebrate). The two of them were still her best friends, despite what happened, and Hermione was sure nothing could change that. There are some things that you just can't go through with creating a lifelong bond with someone; and they'd been through hundreds.

Hermione heard a small chuckle from behind her, and turned her head slightly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw someone, dressed in semi-formal muggle clothes, standing at the base of her steps. With a heaved sigh, she turned around and found a smiling Cormac McLaggen, with his hands resting on his hips. Even though Hermione had known him since Hogwarts, she couldn't help but appreciate how the years had treated him. She took a deep breath, trying to build up the energy to look alive when he spoke.

"Rough night?" Hermione nodded, her eye falling shut for a moment.

"Very," she managed to get out, before practically falling onto the top stair, trying to sit down. Cormac frowned, concern flashing across his face as he climbed the stairs his arms outstretched, ready to catch her. She flashed a smile at him, but his did not return.

"Hermione, how long has it been since you slept?" He asked, his eyes rushing from one side of her face to the other. He took in the dark circles under her red eyes, and notices how pale she looked.

"A bit?"

"Hermione."

"A day?"

"A before that?" Hermione looked at him, and realised he meant business.

"Maybe another day?" she said softly, trying her hardest to look into his eyes without letting him see how tired she was.

"You haven't slept in two days?" Cormac looked almost outraged, his eyes wide, and his hands softly holding her up.

"I'm busy," Hermione muttered, her eyes falling shut again.

Cormac sighed, knowing that Hermione's will was stronger than anyone else's, and the only way to get her to do something was to make her. Without a second thought, Cormac pulled out his wand and waved it over the handle of the door. The lock clicked open and he turned back to Hermione. She was slumped against the wall, muttering something under her breath. With a sad smile, Cormac lifted her into his arms, thanking Merlin that he'd stuck with Quidditch since Hogwarts. He walked through her empty apartment, kicking the door closed behind him and lit his wand for good measure.

Hermione smiled as she felt his arms around her, something she had honestly never expected. She jolted awake when she hit the mattress and looked around. Cormac was already by the door, his wand out in front of him. Within a second he had summoned some fruit from her kitchen and transfigured a glass, leaving her with some water for when she woke up. She left a soft smile form on her face as she watched him. Her eyes were only barely open when he returned to her bed, pulling off her shoes and throwing one of her many blankets over her body. As he turned away, Hermione threw her arm out, grabbing his wrist.

"Please, stay," she said softly, her breathing evening out slowly. Cormac smiled, giving a little nod.

"I'll be just outside," he said, letting her hand fall. He turned out the light and closed the door, trying to do so as quietly as possible.

It was hours before Hermione woke up again, her head aching and her eyes burning at the light coming through her window. She reached out for the glass of water by her bedside, silently praising Cormac for somehow guessing she would wake with the largest migraine she had ever come by. Hermione kicked back the covers, stretching high as she looked out the window; by her guess it was about three p.m., maybe later. She slowly padded down the hall, finally coming to her living room where she found a sleeping Cormac on her lounge. She skirted around him, heading to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, trying her best not to wake him. Her efforts were in vain, however, when a high pitched alarm went off right near Cormac's position. He groaned as he jumped awake, searching for the source of the sound, and finally finding it in one of the many pockets of his overcoat, which had been thrown to the floor when he woke. He looked up at Hermione after turning off the horrible noise from the device he had uncovered.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty! You're up!" His smile spanned most of his face, and something within her compelled her to smile back. He just looked so happy - how could he do that all the time? Hermione let out a small chuckle, turning back to the kettle on the counter.

"I was just about to make some tea, did you want some?" she asked, reaching into her cupboard and grabbing two mugs.

"I'd love to," his voice came, but something in it made Hermione turn around, "but I have to get to work, that was an emergency call." He was standing already, his jacket on and ready to go.

"Oh," Hermione said softly, "okay." She looked around for something, anything to say, but came up blank. She was disappointed. "Thank you!" she said quickly, as he turned to leave with a sad smile.

"Any time," Cormac responded, then looked at his watch. "By the way, in case you hadn't realised yet, it's Sunday." Hermione watched as he walked through her front door, stopping to wave as he reached the street. Her mouth was hanging open as she watched him. It had been a whole day? She had been asleep more than a whole day?!

He had stayed with her for a whole day.

Hermione was running through thoughts quicker than ever before as she tried to work out what this meant. He was a couple meters away when he turned back, flashing one of the most gorgeous smiles she had ever seen, then vanished.

"Crap," Hermione said out loud, as she closed the door behind him. She had feelings for Cormac.

The End

* * *

 **From: Georgia**

 **Thank you, for everything.**


	8. Caged in my Dark Embrace

**To: Sophie.**

 **Warning for mature content.**

* * *

Dark eyes bore into mine, their depths reflecting loneliness and need. The boy apologizes to me lowly and bends down to pick up the fallen books, his gaze finally leaving my own. He hands me mine and leaves without sparing me another glance.

To him, I don't exist. I am a mere bump on his schedule that is quickly rectified. This should irritate me. Really, it should _infuriate_ me.

It doesn't.

I blame it on the loneliness. I blame it on the sheer _need_ reflected in his brown eyes. He is lost; struggling to stay afloat amidst a raging storm. His gaze is broken; something that delights me to no end.

He has the eyes of a broken man; the eyes of someone who had experienced evil and vile things.

I want him, and I _will_ own him.

Turning around, I watch as his back steadily disappears from view. Once he's gone, I chuckle, the sinister sound echoing throughout the corridors.

I walk towards the Common Room, a plan already forming in my mind.

* * *

The next time we see each other is during dinner. The boy sits by himself at the very end of our table, seeming to be content with just reading a leather clad book while he ate. My 'friends' are talking amongst each other, yet I pay them no mind. Instead, I grab my plate and stand up, ignoring everyone's curious gazes.

I make my way towards the boy, my heart beating rapidly in my chest. I don't show my nervousness, though. I keep it hidden; my face stoic for all to see.

When I reach him, I don't hesitate to sit down. The boy doesn't look at me; he continues reading his book, oblivious to the fact that yet another change of our hierarchy has been made.

At that exact moment, every Slytherin's gaze is on us. I smirk inside, making a show of grabbing my utensils and eating a piece of steak.

History has been made.

It's a shame the other boy doesn't even realize it.

* * *

"Are you ever going to talk?" I question lightly, eyeing the boy across from me in amusement. He looks up, his face a mask of cool indifference as he regards me. His brown eyes meet my gaze and I'm lost; the utter beauty of what I find there astounding me once more.

The loneliness seems to have been magnified. However, what truly catches my attention is the iciness that lingers within. He's been hurt again.

He's never been more beautiful.

"I do talk," he remarks. I look at him, forcing myself to focus on his words rather than his eyes.

"So you do. Would you like a medal?" I ask cheekily. The boy rolls his eyes and attempts to go back to reading his book. I laugh. As if I'd let him continue reading after I got him talking.

"What's your name?"

He looks at me in annoyance.

"Barty. Now, kindly shut the hell up, so I can continue reading," he commands, slightly shaking his book for emphasis.

"No can do," I tell him. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, as if put upon. I smile.

"Regulus," I whisper. "Regulus Black."

Barty looks at me, confused hesitance in his gaze, before he abruptly looks away, a light blush on his cheeks.

"Why would I need to know that?" he asks gruffly. My smile grows wider and I lean slightly closer, excitement clear in my eyes.

"Because," I begin, "I think that we'll grow closer than you might think."

The pink intensifies and he abruptly stands, flashing me a look that I can't decipher. Before I can say anything more, he's walking away, his long and elegant strides stunning me.

Now alone, I laugh to myself.

This was going to be so much fun.

* * *

"Why are you following me?"

I look up from my book. Barty sits across from me in the library, a confused frown on his lips. I shrug.

"No reason," I say. He looks at me, his eyebrows raised slightly in disbelief, and sighs loudly.

"You're a horrible liar," he remarks. "Now, what's the real reason?"

I look at him.

"I want to be your friend," I say. He looks at me, the pink from before returning.

"No, you don't," he denies. I shake my head, my eyes flashing in anger.

"Who the fuck are you to tell me what I want?"

Barty looks at me, stunned.

"I want to be your friend and nothing - not even you - can change that. Do you understand me?"

He hesitantly nods and I smile, my serious mood from before dissipating quickly. I flash him a smile.

"In that case, I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Before he can respond, I'm already walking towards the doors. I can feel his dark gaze on my back and it causes my smirk to grow even wider.

 _Soon, Barty… Soon, you'll be mine forever._

* * *

It's been weeks since that fateful day in the library. With every passing moment, Barty and I grow closer. Of course, it wasn't easy. The other teen seemed to be adamant about not having me as a friend. Apparently, Barty thought that ignoring me would make me go away…

Big mistake.

I stayed with him, delighting in the frustration that I managed to cause him. I could see that, despite the annoyance, Barty was beginning to develop hope. In his mind, I was perhaps the friend who would finally stick with him. The friend who would save Barty from his own darkness.

It's cute if you think about it.

Barty thinks that I'll save him…

I will, but not in the way that he wants me to. Barty will be mine. One day, he will fall so deeply into my web that he will have no hopes of getting out.

Luckily for him, that day was fast approaching.

* * *

Screaming pierces my ears.

In Slytherin, that's a normal occurrence. However, this time it was different.

It was Barty.

I sit up abruptly, my whole entire body thrumming with adrenaline as I run to his bedside. His back is arched in a perfect bow and his mouth is open wide, letting out scream after delicious scream. There's sweat on his brow, foretelling the fact that he's having a nightmare. I hop into his bed and pull him close, whispering sweet nothings into his ears as I rub his back.

Slowly, the screams subside and silence echoes once more. I pull him even closer, relishing in the unique warmth that belongs to him.

We stay there all night; Barty sleeping peacefully in my arms. In the morning, he looks at me, a bright blush on his features, and demands me to get out.

I willingly go, a smirk on my face.

He's fallen even more…

* * *

"What did you just say?"

I look at Barty, my cheeks red in embarrassment. However, I force myself to spit it out.

"I said, I like you."

Barty stares at me, his eyes wide and his mouth open. Rolling my eyes, I use irritation to cover up my nervousness.

"Are you ever going to answer, or are you going to keep looking like a retarded fish?"

He closes his mouth immediately but refuses to say anything. Pushing myself, I walk towards him and lovingly cup his cheek.

"I'm not asking for much," I murmur. "I want you and only you. Is that so hard to give?"

He's looking at me, guilt shining in his eyes, and I know that he's on the brink of giving in. He just needs a little push…

"Please?" I beg. "Can we at least give it a try? It'd make me very happy…"

His whole entire stance changes.

Being his only friend, Barty wants me to be happy… Unfortunately for him, that includes the cost of his own happiness.

He spreads his arms and I immediately throw myself into them. His grip is reluctant, so I hug him tighter. Inwardly, I try to calm my raging annoyance. This is nothing time won't fix.

* * *

Barty and I are on my bed. He lays on top of me and presses kiss after kiss upon my lips. Some are chaste while others are passionate; it drives me absolutely mad.

He thrusts in and out of me slowly, forcing me to feel every inch and crevice of his length. It feels so good, so utterly _delicious_ , and I'm panting into his mouth; our breath intermingling with each other.

The hesitance he used to have when he held me to him was now gone.

Gone was the man who didn't love me; gone was the man who laid with me in an effort to maintain my happiness.

He was now replaced by this animal of a man.

Barty caged me within his arms possessively, holding me to himself as he lost all control. His once slow thrusts turned forceful. His speed picked up and he soon began to slam into me, relishing in the broken gasps that I let out.

I held onto him just as tightly, my eyes rolled to the back of my head in utter euphoria. He continues to draw moans and whimpers out of me, forcing me to just _take_ everything he had to give me.

The knowledge that I had done this weighs heavily on my mind, pushing me further and further into pleasurable madness. When it becomes too much and a flash of white blinds me, I clutch onto Barty even tighter, only one thought crossing my mind:

 _Finally, you have fallen._

* * *

 **From: Fire**

 **Sophie, thank you so much for everything you do around the forum! The fact that you have managed to create such an amazing and safe environment for people to just write for what they love is amazing. Good job, sweetie. Thank you so much for everything! I hope you like this one shot. Sincerely, Fire.**


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